


Clocks Move Forward, But We Don't Get Older

by SpaceMirror



Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV)
Genre: Bobby isn't bad you guys are just mean, Bobby | Trevor Wilson Defense Squad, Bobby | Trevor Wilson Redemption, Gen, Ghost hugs, I may have cried writing this, This is Sad you guys, Time Travel, canon character death, do the laws of physics apply to ghosts?, idk how hollywood works, no beta we die like three ghost himbos, this is self-indulgent as hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:55:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27677698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceMirror/pseuds/SpaceMirror
Summary: Of course, it’s Reggie’s idea.“Do you think we could time travel?”
Relationships: Alex & Bobby | Trevor Wilson & Luke Patterson & Reggie
Comments: 7
Kudos: 94





	Clocks Move Forward, But We Don't Get Older

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't possible probably, but I kind of based this off [this tumblr prompt](https://writing-prompt-s.tumblr.com/post/635419910926893056/a-time-traveling-ghost-going-on-adventures-after), and [this picture](https://hains-mae.tumblr.com/post/635141303563403264/we-need-more-bobby) by @hains-mae on tumblr.

Of course, it’s Reggie’s idea. 

“Do you think we could time travel?” It’s an innocent enough question. Alex had been ‘practicing his model strut’ as the bassist liked to call it, reality finally settling in. They had missed _twenty-five_ years of-of-of pop culture, of social life, of slang. 

When he posed the question, he’d been joking. Mostly. He just needed a minute to distract Alex from his head. If he talked for too long he’d forget to breathe, and even if they’re ghosts now and technically don’t need the oxygen, the feeling of air filling his lungs still calms him down. It works, and Alex stops pacing mid-word, something about the dark room, which is what sparked the question in the bassist’s mind in the first place. Both the drummer and guitarist send confused stares in his direction. He glances between the two of them, pursing his lips. 

“I mean...we spent twenty-five years in that room. It felt like an hour… and-and-and Willie...” He gestures to Alex, who tenses at the mention of the other boy. “Did he ever mention anything about a dark room or missing time or anything?” Ever since their ‘magical band hug’, as the boys had taken to calling it, Alex had only seen the skater once. They didn’t think that it would be safe for either of them to keep seeing each other while Caleb licked whatever wounds their disappearance had given him that night. 

“And when we were at the club, you said it yourself. That place is like a time warp.” 

“Okay, but a time warp and time travel aren’t the same thing, Reggie,” 

“I know that, but, really, how wide is that leap?” 

“ _Miles_ wide, Reggie. Miles.” Alex ran his hands through his hair. 

“I mean if you think about it,” Luke said, and Reggie kind of liked the interest in his voice. “We’re the only ghosts that can be seen by lifers without Caleb’s help, right? So, we might be more powerful than him?” 

“We’re not powerful enough to summon a slice of pizza!” Alex gestures dramatically. 

“Maybe we could be if we practice enough. We’ve only been in 2020 for like a month?” Reggie said. This may have started as a way to distract Alex from his anxiety, but the more they talked about it, the more it seemed...not impossible. 

“Oh, so are we just supposed to grab hands and say, ‘I wish we were in 1995?’” 

“Maybe!” Reggie said. He stood from the couch, holding his hands out. 

“Reg.” Ignoring Alex, Luke takes his left hand, standing. The two extend their hands to Alex who stares at the two of them, the annoyance on his face clear as day. Reggie tilts his head and raises an eyebrow. He sees Luke give Alex a smile out of the corner of his eye. 

In nearly thirty years of friendship, you learn a lot about each other. The first thing Reggie learned about Alex was that he was allergic to most nuts, except peanuts. The second thing he learned was that his little sister meant more to him than anything. One thing Alex learned about himself through all their years of friendship, is that Luke and Reggie’s puppy dog faces could get him to do _anything_. It’s why he joined the band in 8th grade, it’s why he went on a double date with the Nelson twins and Luke in the 9th grade, despite the obvious crush he had on their older brother. It’s why they watched _Back to the Future Part III_ on opening night despite all three of them having a math test first thing the next morning. It’s why he exhaled and shook his head before he took his friends’ hands, feeling absolutely ridiculous. 

When Alex felt the squeeze of Reggie’s and Luke’s hands in his, he couldn’t deny the ache in his heart. He loved them, he really did, but there’s a piece missing. They left a piece of them behind when they died in 1995. Bobby was Luke’s friend first, having grown up only a few streets apart. They met in kindergarten, Luke told Bobby that he liked his hair, and Bobby told Luke that he liked his bracelet. Reggie's family moved to town in 3rd grade, and then the three were nearly inseparable after Reggie showed Luke the music note “tattoos” he’d drawn on himself. Alex met them in sixth grade, and the trio grew to a quartet as soon as Luke found out he played the drums. He had to stop himself from summoning his drumsticks with his hands intertwined with his brothers. Even thinking about Bobby's betrayal made him want to smash something, and now that his drums _and_ his sticks were nearly indestructible, it made for a great way to let out his emotions. 

"Is this supposed to do anything?" He asks after a few minutes. "Are we in 1995?" 

"Dude, shut up," Luke says, without any real bite in his voice. Alex just rolls his eyes, and lets them squeeze his hands again. He even closes his eyes for an extra dramatic flair.

There's a familiar _pop_ and the feeling of air being squeezed from Alex's lungs. It's the part he hates most about being able to just poof anywhere in the world. "Great, we just teleported...back to the garage?" He says, opening his eyes once again. 

The three of them were still in the Molina's garage, but there's something off. The 'Sunset Curve' banner Luke and Alex had made is still hanging from the loft, the couch is pulled out into a bed, even their instrument cases are out in the open. 

"Woah...do you think we did it?" Reggie asked, looking around. 

Luke made his way to the couch, sticking his hand between the cushions. His fingers close around something hard, a notebook, and he pulls it open. He recognizes the black and white cover and flips it open, searching. 

"Luke?" Alex asked, over his shoulder. He doesn't respond, simply turning the page to his friends when he finds it. _Unsaid Emily_ stares back at them. 

"Julie took this to my parents. There's no reason it should be here…" He watched their eyes widen as the realization hit them. "We did it. We just time traveled." 

They didn’t have time to celebrate or commiserate or even fully process that somehow they managed to travel back in time when the door opened. 

Luke’s non-beating heart jumped into his throat when Bobby entered. He didn’t react to them as he closed the door behind him. Reggie stepped forward first, as he’s the closest to the door, while Luke slowly and carefully put the notebook back between the cushions. 

Bobby took a deep breath and crumbled to his knees. Alex and Reggie rushed to support him, while Luke hung back. Bobby was his best friend, his _brother_ , he wanted to go to him, but he can’t...Not without remembering the _asshole_ , Trevor, who stole his music, _their_ legacy. He wanted to be angry, to demand answers, some sort of penance. But then Bobby let out a guttural wail, and his heart broke.

Bobby wasn’t a very emotional person. He was the shoulder to cry on when each of the boys needed him to be. A therapist in about twenty years will say it’s because his father was very much a ‘macho man’, and he’ll agree because he was. But his dad wasn’t home then. And he’s lost his best friends, so dammit he’ll cry if he wants to. No one can see him, so what the hell? He hasn’t been out here in at least a week. Rose had helped him bring their instruments back after the Orpheum. For a whole year, he hadn’t played. He’d found them in that alley, and after a week he still couldn’t shake the image of Reggie hunched over the side of some faded blue couch, blood leaking out the side of his mouth. Of Luke’s raggedy breathing while vomit dried on his shirt. Of Alex meeting his eyes from the couch and relief spreading over his features before he too lost the contents of his stomach. Dread settled in his stomach and froze him to the spot. The rest of the night was a blur, the day’s events brought him back to this moment, in the garage, his friends’ instruments still in their cases but their players are gone. 

But a week ago, Rose had convinced him to play again. A whole year after their death, and he still couldn’t stomach even thinking about playing. It was a small gig, some diner on the other side of town from the Orpheum. But he’d played Luke’s song, _My Name is Luke_. It was the last song he’d finished before they died. He played it slower than Luke had written it because he knew that if he went any faster he’d break down on the stage. People came up to him after, telling him how they liked it, how he’s a talented songwriter and it took everything not to break down and cry in front of them. Somehow he managed to escape, with a meeting with some sleazy manager the next week...today. He hadn’t gone prepared for anything, but before he knew it, he’d signed up for 4 albums and the rest of his life as ‘Trevor Wilson’. His new manager, Noah thought Bobby would bring up unwanted memories. He hadn’t realized in the midst of all the forms he’d had to sign, that an NDA, forbidding him to talk about Sunset Curve had been snuck in. 

He hadn’t realized until Noah mentioned that ‘Trevor’ would be a singer-songwriter. He’d tried to clarify, Luke was the songwriter, but Noah had shut that down quick. If he wanted to record _My Name is Luke_ , that’s fine. But Trevor wrote it. And Bobby couldn’t say no. 

“I’m sorry. I should have read it closer…” he finally muttered, his voice hoarse from crying, probably twenty minutes after running into the studio. Reggie’s heart twisted in his chest, so he knelt next to the guitarist. “I should be with you.” Alex glanced at Luke, holding his breath for a moment before he remembers that Bobby can't hear them. 

“Is..is he talking to us?” 

“It’s almost a year you guys are gone…” Bobby seemed to answer Reggie’s question himself, and the other two ghosts crawled closer to hear him through his sobs. “I signed the deal. Fuck, I’m so stupid.” Bobby’s head dropped. “You’d hate me if you found out, but I-I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.” 

“Is he talking about-” Reggie glanced towards Luke, the question hanging in the air.

“The songs…” Luke muttered the only answer he could give. Alex reached for Bobby, his hand hovering over the lifer’s shoulder. 

“He had no choice.” He looked at the other two, a weight disappearing from his chest. Bobby hadn’t betrayed them by stealing the songs. Not intentionally. 

Bobby crumbled in front of them, and none of them can hold back anymore. They threw their arms around him, similar to the way they had hugged Julie after she had freed them from Caleb’s stamp. There’s no telling how long they stayed like that. As far as Reggie is concerned, it could be another 25 years. Bobby falls asleep on the floor of the studio, knowingly wrapped in his jacket and unknowingly wrapped in the arms of his family. 

Luke pulls the blanket off of the couch and gently covers him with it before Reggie presses a kiss to his forehead. Alex smiles sadly, ruffling Bobby’s hair before stepping back. Reggie and Luke grab his hands and there’s an all-too-familiar feeling in their stomachs as they poof away, back to 2020. 

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this at 1 am and finished it instead of a term paper. Hope you enjoy it! Have a good day/noon/night! I love you!


End file.
